Bev’s Comments (group member since Jan 20, 2016)

Bev’s comments from the MidCoast Libraries Better Reading Bookclub group.

Hardborough - a great name to describe a place where people go out of their way to destroy the dreams of others.
This novel, though funny in spots, was a very sad little story overall. I appreciated its brutal realism - Brundish’s galant last gesture to support Florence is forever concealed; the malicious acts of Florence’s detractors go largely undetected. But the failure seems harsh for Florence who is passionate and tenacious enough to nobly establish a bookshop-slash-library in such a small community.

Yet it does mirror life in general. Sometimes the efforts we make far outweigh the rewards, and the enemies we make far exceed the reason; and yes, sometimes it seems as though forces unseen are even against us.

I agree with Chris that the novel was well-written, and also that it had a distinct British flavour. Fitzgerald’s style flows well, and is so easy to read. I enjoyed the book as one quite unlike any other. Not being a prolific reader like Chris, I have less works with which to compare. However, I know it is a story I will reflect on often, which is my measure of a good read.

Thanks John - looking forward to reading it!

Thanks Louise - I enjoyed your review too. John chose this title. I agree it was a great selection.

Not having read The Secret River and only recalling the major dramatic scene from it in a movie many years ago, I feel that I can say that I have read Sarah Thornhill as a stand alone novel; a novel which reads like a family saga – with a dark past, clashing personalities, family secrets, and the like.

Kate Grenville delivers the story fluently. She effectively captures her audience. As an author she is brilliant, making you feel like you are there, on that river, on that land, in the 1830s, with those people. You can easily associate yourself with the landscape and the lifestyle.

I enjoyed John’s insightful review of the novel, wrapping up quite a lot of the narrative in just a few paragraphs; and also his findings of Henry Reynolds, the historian who reported that the Europeans showed no mercy or remorse toward the Aboriginals they murdered. To this though, I would suggest that, as in the case of William Thornhill, their remorse could have manifested itself in unseen ways and much later in life.

I also enjoyed the review that Chris posted, and agree with him particularly on two points:
1. That the worth of a novel can often be measured by how much the reader reflects on it; and
2. The ending was hurried but it did leave something to think about.

Like John and Chris, I also felt the ending was disproportionate and seemingly rushed. Its very structure seemed distinctly out of step with the rest of the story. But I felt this was deliberate. It added a dreamlike quality to the ending.

On reflecting on the novel, I found myself using this rather abstract ending to unlock the message that I took from the story. To me, the message is that those who make known their wrongdoing to others, like Jack and Sarah did during the Māori ritual, can move on and enjoy their lives fully. Conversely, those who hide the truth, like William Thornhill and his wife, are destined for much harsher judgment in life or in death.

I really enjoyed the book and I feel the characters will stay with me for some time to come.

OK - thanks Louise

'Sarah Thornhill' by Kate Grenville has been chosen as the next title for our bookclub to read. If you would like a copy from the kit, they are in Chris's office at Forster.

Wow! The Snow Kimono is an amazing novel. I agree with Chris that the imagery is indeed powerful. I felt entranced by its haunting, dreamy flow - the short phrases, the lack of quotation marks, the ghostly images of windswept inanimate objects, and the ‘floating’ conversations.

The revelation at the end of the book reminded me of Patrick White’s ‘Twyborn Affair’. If surprise endings are meant to make the reader do it again, it always works with me; so I happily read it again with a different perspective.

I loved the motif of the jigsaw puzzle and its relevance to the reader, where “the pieces are calculated to deceive, to lead one astray, in order to make the solution of the puzzle as difficult, as challenging as possible”.

The question Chris put to us about morals of the characters was also in the back of my mind during the second reading. To me, ‘Omura’s’ storytelling was a confession. Despite Martine’s belief that Katsuo was a “selfish, insensitive, narcissistic...jerk”, there were indications that this was not the case. For example, when Jovert described the death of his wife and son, ‘Omura’ cried; and when Jovert questioned whether he should contact his own daughter, ‘Omura’ was incensed to think that he wouldn’t. As Omura, these seemed like natural responses, but as Katsuo, they revealed deep emotion. He loved the women in his life to the point where he would do anything for them; suffer for them; even kill for them. He is now remorseful, ashamed, and tormented by the past.

Jovert himself had a dark past (torture, deceit, deaths of innocent people, adultery), but he had managed to keep them locked away. I believe ‘Omura’s’ stories convinced Jovert to take a similar line and confess to someone else what he has hidden for so long. As ‘Omura’ said, “We can only see our lives through the eyes of another”.

I loved Henshaw’s ‘Snow Kimono’. But even though I read it twice I still didn’t get the “connection” between Jovert and ‘Omura’. If anyone else can enlighten me it would be much appreciated. I get the feeling here that I have missed something important in regard to their having a “connection” as opposed to their relationship being just a “coincidence”.

The Art of Racing in the Rain transported me into a world where things seemed much simpler. Indeed, since finishing the book, I continue to imagine the perspective of my dogs on so many things. I don't think my dogs are as philosophical as Enzo though - maybe they have a few more lives to go before they reach that stage (hahaha).
Of course, the book is much more than this. There are some very important life lessons within; firstly, that we should only focus on what really matters and actively strive to fulfil those purposes.
Secondly, we should try to emulate the unconditional love attributed to all dogs. Having said that, this absoluteness in dogs may not only apply to love, but also to hate. As Stein cleverly depicts in the chance encounter with Annika during their evening walk, Enzo takes his consistent doggy stance in despising Annika. But Denny instead decides to appeal to her better nature, showing empathy, humility and wisdom in his approach. This of course turns everything around. This brings me to a third lesson: we may not have the level of instincts that a dog has, or the same readiness to forgive and forget those close to us - but we have human reasoning which can encapsulate all these things and more to everyone around us, not just those we love.
I loved this book and I was also impressed with the ending: I cried but then found myself quickly comforted by the very last chapter.

Thanks Julie - I'm glad you enjoyed it. I didn't have much to do with choosing it. I simply grabbed the highest ranking and most available kit from Louise's suggestions, so thanks Louise!
I am also enjoying it immensely. It has everything for me - I'm a dog lover, a racing car enthusiast, and sometimes need to race to work on wet days! :)

Sure! I'll arrange to get it to you next week. Perhaps by Thursday?

I have taken the liberty of grabbing one of the Book Club kits that Louise suggested. Hope that's okay with everyone. It is the highest rated one on the list that Louise submitted - The Art of Racing in the Rain. The copies are in Chris's office.

Although this novel was easy to read and had plenty of twists, it seemed somehow disjointed; almost like it was being made up as it went along. 

I didn't know what to feel about Harry because I wasn't given the full story about his relationship with Nola. I'm still not sure. Was it platonic? 

I generally felt that I wasn't introduced properly to ANY of the characters, perhaps intentionally, so that the author had room to move with the many twists and turns he had most of the characters perform. 

I thought some events seemed unrealistic e.g. that Marcus honoured Harry's request to burn his notes without looking at them, (especially given that a copy of the manuscript was found with Nola's body); or that someone vicious enough to be part of a 'Field Goals Gang' would, without correction, feel remorse later on in life. In fact there were so many characters that seemed overly-responsive in an unnatural way, causing a chain reaction which wouldn't ordinarily occur.

As I said earlier though, I did enjoy the book, I kept returning to it gladly, but it just seemed to lack credibility and structure.

Good question John. It's made me realise that there is a lot more to Maxim and his story than I first assumed.

I read this book in two days. I just couldn’t put it down. Then to find later that it is 75 years old yet has never been out of print or lost its popularity, well – that doesn’t surprise me at all.

What strikes me most in this great romantic mystery is the way Du Maurier depicts the contrasting personalities of the characters, especially the two wives. The two Mrs de Winters are direct opposites; the second ‘Lacks confidence, grace, beauty and intelligence’ but shows ‘kindness and sincerity and …modesty’ (p148). She’s shy. She bites her nails. She is immature and innocent. She has “that funny, young, lost look” (p336). She is the antithesis of Rebecca. As Chris has already stated, even the title contrasts the fact that our heroine is herself nameless. If a name is of such value deserving of a book title, then the narrator’s worth lay only in the fact that she was just the second wife – socially and literally; a nameless heroine as opposed to the imposing name and character of the protagonist.

The other characters too were contrasted. Maxim and Mrs Danvers responded so differently to Rebecca’s death. Maxim wants to forget her (for so many reasons). He wants to turn away from the past, turn away from the sea, turn away from the West wing. He wants to replace her with another. Mrs Danvers, on the other hand, wants to keep her memory alive, maintain her room and belongings and her old associates, and shows extreme hatred for his new wife.

I found the turn of events to be most unpredictable and interesting. Who knew that the Rebecca who was liked by ‘men, women, children, dogs’ (p210) was a different girl to the one she portrayed to the world around her? Whether she was a sociopath or a narcissist, Daphne Du Maurier cleverly hid this from the reader, yet in the end it all made sense: nobody is that perfect.

Unlike Chris (and perhaps Du Maurier) I found it very difficult to admire Rebecca regardless of her ‘gifts’. As the reader, once I realised Rebecca’s true character, I couldn’t help but feel like yet another one of her deceived victims.

I loved every minute of this book. A great read!

Interesting, John. I hadn't realised the lack of female characters (which I guess is another tick for the author).

I totally agree with Chris, especially the last paragraph. What I find apparent with this discussion so far is that while we all agree that the story is a bit too harsh, there are still some mixed reviews. I'm really interested in everyone's take on the novel.

This was cut off the end of my last comment (not sure why): It's the genre that cruels it for me. I think a softer genre by the same author would be quite enjoyable.

Thanks Stephanie. I agree - it's a real gamble. I choose not to read any books that have less than a 4-star rating in Goodreads. That's why I selected North Water for its 4 star rating, and secondly for its availability. But I personally give it 3 stars (and I'm a high marker)

I totally understand both Stephanie and Louise in their reaction to this novel. I also do not like violence and unsavoury-like characters. Usually, I also stop reading if it's a book I don't like, and I also felt like giving up. But I felt oddly obligated to carry on as it WAS my suggestion. Hahaha. Anyway, in the end, I felt a little more desensitised (probably not a good thing), but glad of the 'happier' ending, as must always be the case - "thanks Disney!". But if there wasn't some poetic justice, well that's where I would REALLY come undone.

We all sin in some way (to varying degrees) and we all have different belief systems which seem to help us cope with these iniquities. But in North Water, we see sodomy, animal cruelty, murder, greed, fraud, drunkenness, laziness, drug abuse, and deceit – a plethora of dark and dismal depravities. We’re also shown the differing thoughts or reactions to each immorality; for example, Sumner’s horror at Drax’s act of sodomy, as opposed to Brownlee’s hypocritical disgust where he determined that it was worse than violating a girl child.

Behind the mayhem, there is always an awareness of the various belief systems: the spiritual connectedness of the Inuit people, who respected their surroundings and the animals they killed for survival; the crew members who were mainly ‘Christian’, yet awkward in prayer and uncomfortable with any mention of God (except for Otto); and the atheistic (or agnostic?) Sumner, whose Bible seemed to be Homer’s fate-filled The Iliad. Though Otto had a true prophetic gift, Sumner soon dismissed his many prophecies, only to turn to Homer’s The Iliad which itself brims with stories of prophecy, fate and dreams.

Even the perspective on the demeanour of Drax is varied: Otto believes that Drax is Satan, while Sumner questions the idea of Satan, stating that evil is merely the absence of good, or vice versa. Drax himself believes that whatever he does comes as a natural progression to the next action, with no conscience involved; he considers himself quite normal.

While I found North Water to be quite bleak and miserable, I do like a good character-driven story. It has given me a lot to think about, which for me determines that a novel is a good read.